“It is extraordinary, Mr. Percy,” continued Lord Oldborough, “that, knowing how widely you differ from me in political principles, I should choose, of all men living, to open my mind to you. But the fact is, that I am convinced, however we may differ about the means, the end we both have in view is one and the same--the good and glory of the British empire.” “My lord, I believe it,” cried Mr. Percy--with energy and warmth he repeated, “My lord, I believe it.” “I thank you, sir,” said Lord Oldborough; “you do me justice. I have reason to be satisfied when such men as you do me justice; I have reason also to be satisfied that I have not to make the common complaint of those who serve princes. From him whom I have served I have not met with any ingratitude, with any neglect: on the contrary, I am well assured, that so firm is his conviction of my intending the good of his throne and of his people, that to preserve me his minister is the first wish of his heart. I am confident that without hesitation he would dismiss from his councils any who should obstruct my views, or be inimical to my interests.” “Then, my lord, you are happy; if man can be happy at the summit of ambition.” “Pardon me. It is a dizzy height at best; but, were it attained, I trust my head would be strong enough to bear it.” “Lord Verulam, you know, my lord,” said Mr. Percy, smiling, “tells us, that people, by looking down precipices, do put their spirits in the act of falling.” “True, true,” said Lord Oldborough, rather impatient at Mr. Percy’s going to Lord Verulam and philosophy. “But you have not yet heard the facts. I am encompassed with enemies, open and secret. Open enemies I meet and defy--their strength I can calculate and oppose; but the strength of my secret enemies I cannot calculate, for that strength depends on their combination, and that combination I cannot break till I know of what it consists. I have the power and the will to strike, but know not where to aim. In the dark I will not strike, lest I injure the innocent or destroy a friend. Light I cannot obtain, though I have been in search of it for a considerable time. Perhaps by your assistance it may be obtained.” “By my assistance!” exclaimed Mr. Percy: “ignorant, as I am, of all parties, and of all their secret transactions, how, my dear lord, can I possibly afford you any assistance?” “Precisely by your being unconnected with all parties--a cool stander-by, you can judge of the play--you can assist me with your general knowledge of human nature, and with a particular species of knowledge, of which I should never have guessed that you were possessed, but for an accidental discovery of it made to me the other day by your son Alfred--your knowledge of the art of deciphering.”